Proving Ground Redux
by Alathea2
Summary: Several months after the humans soldiers have proven their abilities on the battlefield Prowl, Bluestreak, Mirage and Hound arrive on Earth. None of the new arrivals believe the humans should be allowed to participate on the battlefield. Can the humans prove themselves a second time? A sequel to Proving Ground.
1. Tactical Dilemma

_Takes place only a few months following Proving ground, before any major Decepticon incursion. ROTF does not factor in._

_Enjoy._

* * *

"No." Prowl shook his helm. "It is not a logical tactical decision to so directly involve the humans in our combat units."

All movement in the hanger came to a crashing halt. All optics and eyes instantly snapped to the stiffly standing Praxian. If the former enforcer noticed the sudden attention, he gave no outward indication.

Instead, Prowl kept his own azure gaze locked onto his Prime's brilliant cerulean one.

Optimus did not respond immediately, carefully measuring his words and taking a moment to evaluate the reactions of the human command team.

Thankfully, his human counterpart, the newly promoted Major Lennox, looked darkly amused and disbelieving rather than insulted. Epps, standing next to and slightly behind his commanding officer in a manner that was eerily similar to Ironhide's, looked irritated if not downright disgusted.

"Have you had the opportunity to review the records of Mission City?" Optimus asked calmly.

Prowl nodded sharply. "Yes. And the high level of human casualties only supports a tactical plan that ensures they remain as far away from future combat operations as possible."

Optimus looked at his second in command and released a tired vent of air. "Will you simply accept my judgment that including our human allies is not just the best option, it is also crucial to achieving victory against the Decepticons? At least accept my judgment until time and experience prove it to you?"

Prowl's vents flared as he sucked in a draft of air. He knew that tone in his leader's voice; Optimus was not going to be swayed. But their Prime was not the only Autobot with a stubborn streak. "I will follow your order if that is the one you give. However, I maintain my objections."

Prowl was not flaunting his disagreement with Optimus, he was simply being matter of fact. The risk to the humans, delicate and inexperienced as they were as a race, was too great and Prowl was not going to be part of causing even one of them to die or suffer needlessly.

"We need your tactical processor to plan our campaigns and help fine-tune our training methods." Optimus spoke quietly. He understood where his SIC was coming from. That did not mean he liked it.

Those doorwings twitched, almost a minute flutter. "You would ask me to operate contrary to my core programming to protect life in order to help craft plans that are guaranteed to result in the otherwise preventable death of a fragile organic species?"

Prowl's words were measured, not demanding or harsh, but that was the impact they had regardless. Optimus could tell by the way the humans reacted.

Epps released an irritated sigh. "Here we go again. Man, this is fragging wonderful!"

Prowl did not even acknowledge the statement, keeping his borderline challenging gaze on his leader.

Optimus carefully evaluated his newly arrived officer, working to keep the tiny smirk off of his faceplate. Prowl was one of the few among the ranks of the Autobots who could be depended on to call him on questionable decisions. Unlike Ratchet or Ironhide, Prowl could also be counted upon to do so in a respectful and mostly polite manner.

Aware of their rapt audience, Optimus answered levelly. "This is their planet, Prowl. They have a vested interest in defending it."

"A defense we are capable of, and committed to, providing without endangering them." Prowl insisted, the very slight stress of his words hinting at the depth of his convictions.

All eyes and optics flicked back to Optimus. "They are far more capable on the battlefield than I think you are giving them credit for."

All visual sensors, organic and cybernetic, flicked back to Prowl.

"Perhaps. Be that as it may, it does not change the fact that sound tactical strategy do not require their needless sacrifice of life." Prowl lifted his chin ever so slightly. He was right in this, and he knew it.

Eyes and optics shifted back to Optimus.

This time, however, Optimus said nothing. The silence hung heavy for long moments, their optics locked in a silent duel of wills. Slowly, one at a time, eyes and optics shifted back to Prowl.

Finally, Prowl's doorwings twitched again when he realized the silent stare _was_ his Prime's response. He tried to continue meeting his leader's gaze with his own, but knew it would not last long. Once his Prime made a decision it was Prowl's nature to submit. It was another trait that made him an invaluable second in command. He would state his case, his objections, firmly and eloquently but when the decision was made, even if it was contrary to his own judgment, he would follow orders loyally and with all the essence that was his own commanding presence.

With a release of air that did not show the full extent of his irritation, Prowl ducked his head formally. Optimus Prime had made his decision. He would accept defeat graciously.

"Very well. I will follow orders, Prime. However, my objections are on record."

"Noted." Optimus said softly, glad Prowl had yielded, but saddened it had come to that. He would have preferred to have won his SIC's favor, not just his grudging obedience.

Not that he should be surprised. He and Ironhide had protested just as strongly. And they had not given in nearly as amiably. That did not change the fact that he hated asking his Autobots to follow orders that conflicted with their ethical programming. He was about to share with his SIC the details of how the humans had convinced him of their fighting ability in an effort to reassure the troubled Praxian but did not get the chance.

As if reading his thoughts, Lennox finally spoke up. "Optimus, perhaps we should arrange a demonstration of just how well we can do, even on our own."

Now all optics and eyes shifted from Prowl's retreating form to the human, including the optics of said tactician.

"Are you sure, Major?" Optimus asked, cocking an optic ridge though he was pleased with this development.

Lennox looked from Prowl to meet Optimus' blue gaze and nodded firmly. "Might as well do it for all the new arrivals. Get it all done at once."

Prowl had turned around completely and had taken a step back toward the platform the human commander was standing on. "The statistical likelihood of a team of humans being able to successfully defeat four Cybertronians is less than one in one hundred. _Significantly_ less." Prowl stated dryly.

Then his doorwings flicked as Ironhide, Jolt, Sideswipe, Ratchet and the idiot twins chuckled. What had he said that was funny in the least?

"Hey, boss 'Bot, I think that's a _great_ idea." Sideswipe piped up, cutting off Prowl's speculation with another snicker.

Prowl hid his growing consternation well. Sideswipe only used _that_ tone when he believed he was about to get something over on the tactician. But that did not seem possible in this case. Which only made it more confusing.

"Of course," Lennox continued thoughtfully, looking at Prowl appraisingly. "We haven't had as much opportunity to see them in action like we have you."

"Eh, you are an adaptive bunch." Ironhide interjected, the gleam in his optics likewise almost devious. "You'll figure it out."

"Indeed. We may consider this to also be a true test of your resourcefulness." Optimus concurred, unable to help goading his counterpart, encouraging the human's competitive streak. Cybertronians were not the only beings on this planet that were predictable. "New Decepticons are also bound to arrive on Earth as well. We need to see how you might fare against them. Unless, of course, you are not up to such a challenge."

The lighter skinned human shot Optimus a dark look, then focused on his own second in command. Lennox and Epps looked at each other for a long moment, sharing an entire conversation with only their eyes and subtle facial clues none of the Autobots were entirely sure either how to decipher or even what their significance might be. For those who had been on Earth for a while, it was a familiar phenomenon, even if they were still flummoxed by it. The new arrivals were clearly baffled. Except Prowl, who simply stared.

After several seconds the two men smiled in tandem and looked back at Optimus.

"It'll be fun." Epps spoke for both of them.

Prowl Blinked.

"Shall I brief them, or do you want that honor?" Optimus asked, secretly bemused by the consternation his SIC was now doing his best to conceal. Bluestreak's openly baffled faceplate, along with Hound's softly bemused expression were not nearly as… out of character as the look Prowl was giving the two humans. Mirage's expression of haughty disgust was more troubling, but he trusted the spy to not endanger the humans no matter what his personal feelings might be regarding them. Some prejudices die hard. Optimus only hoped Mirage would allow his automatically low appraisal of organic worth to be revised once the humans proved him wrong.

Lennox was smiling up at him. "Thank you for the offer, Prime. Though I would appreciate having some back up when I do."

Optimus cocked an optic ridge as much at the words as at the attitude behind them. "You require back-up for a mere mission briefing, but consider taking those same warriors on in combat to be enjoyable?"

Prowl's doorwings twitched slightly at that, but he was being ignored at the moment as Lennox shrugged, the smile remaining in place. "Well, you know, we each have our strengths."

Optimus chuckled softly, the sentiment heartily echoed by Lennox, Epps, Ironhide, Sideswipe and many others.

Prowl, Bluestreak, Hound and Mirage stared between them as if they had unanimously taken leave of their logic systems. This, of course, only made the others laugh harder. Optimus, however, looked at his second in command with an understanding sympathy that only served to puzzle the Praxian tactician even further.

With a final shake of his head, Lennox looked at Prowl, drawing himself up. Prowl found himself impressed by the command presence the human radiated, even with his tiny stature. He wondered that he had never seen it before. "Alright, Commander. Mission briefing tomorrow at 16:00."

Not having much of a choice, Prowl simply nodded. "Acknowledged, Major."

Straightening, Prowl turned and walked out, doorwings stiff.

After a moment, Sideswipe grinned. "Major?"

Lennox looked up at the silver frontliner. "Yes, Sideswipe?"

"I think I should brief _you_ and your team later tonight." The prankster was grinning with far more glee than normal. Too much to be ignored.

"Sideswipe…" Optimus warned.

Sideswipe raised both hands in a defensive yet simultaneously consoling gesture he had learned from the humans. "Standard briefing, Boss 'Bot. Honest."

Optimus let his engine rumble in warning. "Ironhide and I will take care of that briefing, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe looked as if he was going to press the issue, but wisely changed his mind when Optimus narrowed his optics. Ducking his head slightly, Sideswipe mumbled something that sounded like 'yes, sir' and quickly skated out of the hanger.

… … …

As 16:00 local planetary time neared, Prowl looked at the other three Autobots standing around the raised platform utilized by the humans. Bluestreak shifted uneasily from pede to pede, his doorwings flicking nervously. Hound stood at a lazy parade rest, simply waiting for Lennox to arrive. Mirage stood stiffly, almost arrogantly, a little ways away from anyone else.

No one present failed to turn or at least glance at the human sized door as it opened. Next to it, the larger Autobot-sized door likewise rolled open to admit their leader. Lennox headed immediately for the platform while Optimus chose to stand near the back of the hanger, so as not to distract from the forthcoming briefing.

Prowl nodded once to his Prime, who returned the gesture of respect.

Looking back at the human military commander as he climbed the scaffolding, Prowl assessed the man once again. Humans were, like all organics, often difficult to understand. Then his optics fell on the weapon the human held. Its appearance was decidedly different than any he had seen a human carry before. Briefly he wondered how its function differed from their standard weapons and why the soldier was bringing it to the briefing.

Regardless, he politely returned his attention to the man himself, waiting for him to speak.

Lennox glanced at all of them, as if making sure he had their attention. Which, of course, he did. "Alright. The name of the game is 'Capture the Flag.' We will be divided into two teams, human and Autobot. The goal, as implied by the title, is to capture the opposing team's flag while successfully defending yours."

He held up a hand. "Before you ask, the flag is just a symbol. It represents whatever the target might be: A P.O.W., a piece of Intel, whatever. Got it?"

Prowl nodded sharply. The motion echoed by the others.

"Rules." The soldier continued, counting each off on his fingers. "Once a soldier on either side is eliminated, they are required to notify their commander. No other information is to be exchanged. No further communications with active participants is allowed. Once eliminated, everyone will rendezvous at the designated staging area. You guys will be using your weapons set to… training level three… am I right?" Lennox looked up at Optimus.

"You are correct." Optimus confirmed.

Major Lennox slid his gaze back to those he was briefing, a tiny smile on his face that belied the seriousness of the situation from Prowl's perspective. He hefted the weapon he was holding and pat it almost affectionately, reminding Prowl of Ironhide. "We will be using these babies and other weapons like them comparable to real weapons in our usual arsenal. When fired, it looks like this."

Lennox pulled the trigger without even seeming to aim it. Obnoxiously bright pink paint splattered on the nearest wall.

Prowl stared at the mess, then looked back at Lennox. "Projectiles of paint?" He asked dubiously.

Lennox nodded, that tiny smile still caressing his lips. "For us there is no question. One hit from your weapons and we'd be reduced to our constituent parts. So, my guys know if they are tagged they are out. Now, for you, on the other hand, I'm assuming you are all aware of the specs for our weapons?"

Four confirming nods, Prowl feeling his logic systems strain at the surreal turn this briefing had just taken. Were the humans really planning to take on trained warriors with far more firepower than they could hope to conceive of with nothing more than paint?

Lennox was continuing, ignorant of Prowl's internal struggle. "Treat each of these as a sabot type projectile. It's on the honor system here. If we manage to hit an area with enough relative force to take you down, you're out."

"Do you honestly believe you will be able to defeat us?" Mirage demanded haughtily, though Prowl was silently asking the same question. The man seemed overly confident.

Lennox looked at the spy and Prowl suspected the human was about to get angry. Instead the corner of his lips twitched slightly. "We'll see now, won't we, Mirage?"

Behind them, Optimus' engine gave a brief stutter. When Prowl and the others looked at him, his expression was hidden behind his battle mask. "My apologies, Major. Please continue."

Prowl frowned. The Prime sounded far from apologetic.

"Right." Lennox deadpanned, apparently coming to the same conclusion. "Moving on. Optimus has the downloads of the island with your landing pier, our landing zone and the staging area delineated along with basic topographical information."

Major Lennox drew himself up again. "The exercise is scheduled to take place in three days. There is a tropical wave expected to strike the area, but unless it strengthens to a hurricane, we are not cancelling." The major's lips stretched into an almost predatory smile. "So long as no one steps on us, it'll be fun. We are rather easily squished, after all."

With that, the human military commander grinned and slid down the railing to land on the ground with a rather graceful leap. Then he looked up at Optimus. "I guess that wasn't too bad, after all."

Optimus chuckled. "After having survived giving that briefing to Ratchet and Ironhide, I had no doubt you would do fine."

"Good point. See you in the main hanger." With a wave, Lennox walked out into the blazing tropical afternoon.

Optimus watched his counterpart leave, then looked at the assembled Autobots and sent them the same geographical data he had been given and which he had researched on his own prior to the original team's round against the humans. "Here is the file on the target area. Do not expect any additional insight or briefing from any of us who have been here longer. You will be approaching this just like any newly arrived Cybertronian would. Just like the humans will be approaching it as they would any newly arriving threat. Once the exercise begins, your only communication will be with other combatants, though Ratchet and myself will be serving as referees."

Prowl nodded. Surely, when the Prime saw how easily the humans were defeated, he would reconsider his stance on allowing them in active combat roles alongside Autobots.

He watched as Optimus walked out, leaving the four new arrivals to their own devices.

Silence hung in the hanger for a few precious moments before it was broken, Bluestreak wringing his hands. "Are we really going to have simulated combat with the humans? Because that really, really seams like a bad idea. What if one of them gets hurt? They'd hate us… and I'd never be able to forgive myself if I accidently stepped on one, or hurt them in any way. Why is Prime agreeing to this?"

"Prime is simply giving these humans a chance to prove their ability on the battlefield." Mirage said archly. "They will fail and that will be the end of it."

"I dunno." Hound sounded almost languid. "Prime was arguing pretty strongly yesterday. I can't help but think there is a reason for it. Just say'n"

"Well, he did mention Mission City, but a lot of humans died there. That doesn't sound like much of a recommendation as to their battlefield abilities. I mean, several hundred and they were only facing a handful of Decepticons and they also had Prime's advance team fighting with them." Bluestreak was glancing frantically between Prowl and Hound, as if looking for reassurance.

"According to Ironhide, the humans did kill Blackout." Hound countered.

"A fluke of luck, surely." Mirage examined the paint on the back of his hand for nicks that were nonexistent. "Prowl, you do not think they are on the same par with us, do you?"

Prowl did not move, his arms crossed over his chassis, his battle computer already working on the data he had been given. "While they may be skilled fighters in their own right, it is not wise to directly involve them in our combat. We shall prove this in three days."

* * *

_Yes, as requested, a sequel to Proving Ground. _

_Please tell me what you think. _


	2. Logistics

_I want to thank everyone who is following this story and who have favorited it. The overwhelming support has been awesome. I know I did not get to respond to every review, but know that I read each and every one I get. So thank you again._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The transport ship taking Prowl and his team to their appointed island rocked gently in the bourgeoning swells of the near monsoon. The humans manning the ship went about their duties seemingly unaffected. Likewise they moved about the cargo deck completely nonplused that the four vehicles they moved around were actually living creatures.

As far as Prowl was concerned, that was fine. It allowed him to finish briefing the three warriors accompanying him.

Thus, the four Autobots conversed silently, assuming the humans were completely ignorant of their private communications.

_/Remember, humans have adapted to their native environment. My research shows our destination is more heavily wooded than anything we have yet experienced on this planet. Keep in mind that will make it more difficult for us to sense their presence. Be sure to watch your step as well, least we injure or kill one of them by accident./_

Bluestreak interjected. _/Don't they know better than to get under foot? I mean, don't they know how easily they could be squished? Surely they are smart enough to avoid getting stepped on./_

Hound chuckled. _/The records from Mission City indicate that Major Lennox __**slid**__ underneath Blackout to get a shot at his underplating./_

_/I doubt the sanity of any organic who believes they have a chance against us./_ Mirage put in sounding almost bored.

Prowl revved, regaining their attention as well as a few curious glances from nearby humans – all of whom he ignored. _/However, we must not rule out humans' ability and dexterity. They will not be limited to attacking from ground level./_

He sent them a set of coordinates superimposed on a map of the island. _/We must remember that the goal of this exercise is to protect our flag. I have calculated that this location offers the most defensible position./_

Prowl then laid out his carefully thought out and precise strategy.

Dutifully, the others listened with attentiveness.

When the tactician was finished, Hound spoke. _/What about finding the human's flag?/_

_/It is statistically unlikely that we will be able to easily locate their flag in a hostile environment. We will take out the threat of retaliation as they attempt to take our flag and then search for theirs at our leisure./_

There were satisfied rumbles from the other three warriors, even if Mirage gave a blip of static at the term 'threat' as applied to humans.

According to Prowl's sensors, they were approaching their destination when Bluestreak spoke up suddenly. _/Are the humans really going to land on the island in such a way that they will actually have to __**swim**__? Swim in the ocean I mean. Because that doesn't sound like a good idea./_

_/Indeed./_ Prowl was careful not to transmit his own discomfort with the idea of volitional submersion of one's self in _salt_ water. _/Remember that humans can function semi-aquatically./_

_/But my understanding is that aquatic activities are very draining for them. It doesn't make sense that they would intentionally put themselves at a disadvantage like that from the very beginning… and then they are only using paint…/_

_/They are __**organic.**__/ _Mirage cut Bluestreak off_. /Logic is seldom one of their fortes. Speaking of, Commander, how is it you know they will seek us out? Most of the time organics simply hide when faced with something inherently stronger and larger than themselves./_

_/They are aggressive. Their method of egress onto the island, the very fact we are out here taking part in this ridiculous exercise indicates a proclivity toward foolish risks./_ Prowl explained patiently.

As if on cue, the ship's Master Chief walked up to Prowl. "Commander Prowl, please excuse the interruption?"

_Interruption?_ Prowl wondered briefly. _How did he know?_

"Yes, Master Chief?" Prowl's voice was politely formal, giving no evidence of his sudden consternation.

"We are approaching the dock sir. With the seas as rough as they are, it will be dangerous for us to stay moored longer than absolutely necessary." For a moment, Prowl was expecting to be told they would have to swim ashore like the humans for the safety of the ship. But the man continued. "Captain wants you guys to be ready to disembark ASAP so we aren't tempting fate any more than we hafta."

Before Prowl could answer, Bluestreak interrupted. "What do you mean, dangerous?"

The man glanced at the young sniper's alt-mode, seemingly perfectly at ease to be exchanging conversation with what must appear to him to be nonsentient vehicles. "Meaning if the right things happen, we could be pushed against the pier and that'd buckle our hull and then we'd loose the ship. 'Specially in seas like this."

"Then why even make the attempt? There are Sixty-Seven human lives on this ship." Hound inquired.

The man smiled proudly. " 'Cause you guys aren't exactly equipped to deal with… what did Ratchet call it? Corrosive water. Nope. It's our job to get you where you need to be. Come hell or high water. Literally. End of story."

The man looked back at Prowl, seemingly unaware of the shock and surprise he had just generated: none of the Autobots had ever before encountered an organic species that would willingly put itself at risk for their sake.

But the Master Chief was all business again. "If you guys can move into position, sir?"

"Of course, Master Chief." Prowl replied.

Without additional comment, Prowl lead the others to the appropriate area. Once there, the lift took them up to the deck and, as they rolled into position it became clear what the Master Chief had meant about the ocean. Waves lashed against the side of the ship like angry whips, spraying the deck with white foam.

He could not help but think about what the sailor had said. The humans – all of the humans on this ship – were taking a risk in delivering them to the island. Why? Because it was their job? Organics tended to be fickle, he doubted a mere assignment could coerce such willing acceptance of blatant risk on its own.

Watching the crew work on the deck, Prowl saw to a person a calmness and professionalism that spoke volumes of its own. They acted and moved about their assigned duties as if it was no big deal to be risking their life and limbs.

_It is just a training mission_. Prowl protested silently. It was not logical to take such risks on a training mission. It was almost as if they were trying to prove something.

Then it hit him like a blow to the doorwings. This training mission was designed so the humans could prove their usefulness on the battlefield. In that light, it _was_ logical for the crew of this ship to desire to make sure it happened as scheduled.

Of course, Prowl had the insight to acknowledge, it was also their way of proving that they were willing and determined to do what it took to fulfill their part in the alliance. It was a mindset Prowl could easily respect, even if he did not like the risk the fragile organics were taking.

"Be prepared to disembark as quickly as possible and as soon as it is safe to do so." He ordered quietly.

"Prowl, this isn't right. They shouldn't be taking a chance like this. We can handle the short wade to the shore…" Hound began.

"It is their choice." Prowl corrected, cutting the scout off. "They have undertaken this mission in order to prove themselves to us. We will respect that choice."

"But isn't there something we can do to help? We are allies, after all." Hound sounded as frustrated as Prowl was tempted to feel.

Prowl scanned the dock and made a serious of rapid-fire calculations. "Perhaps."

Without further delay, the strategist patched himself into their radio frequencies. _/Captain O'Neill, this is Commander Prowl./_

"Go ahead Commander." The man sounded understandably stressed, though remarkably calm considering how emotional humans tended to be.

_/I have evaluated our current predicament and have concluded there is only a fifty-three percent chance your regular docking procedure can be safely completed./_ He notified the human.

"Tell me something I don't know." The man snapped. Then he sighed audibly over the channel. "My apologies, Commander."

_/No offence taken./ _ Prowl assured. _/I believe my fellow Autobots and I may be able to assist, increasing the likelihood of safely delivering us to the shore and the safety of your vessel to seventy-four percent./_

There was a moment of silence. "Alright. What is it?"

Prowl told him.

It did not take long and permission was quickly granted.

Clicking off the radio, Prowl turned his attention to his fellow Cybertronians. "Hound, you take the stern, I'll take the bow. Bluestreak, Mirage, prepare to disembark."

All the Autobots took their positions as the ship was laboriously maneuvered closer to the dock. Once the ship was close enough, Prowl signaled Hound. Simultaneously both Autobots transformed and grabbed the thick docking pylons. Servos strained as the ship was first pushed towards the pier and then pulled away by the raging ocean, but they held firm.

At another signal, Bluestreak and Mirage transformed to leap to the shore. Actually, it was more of a really long stride but the result was the same. Holding the ship steady as it bobbed from the sudden loss of their weight was its own chore and left Prowl gritting his denta at the effort it took to keep the ship away from peril.

Prowl released a short vent as the ship was stabilized, though the sea continued to batter it. Carefully, both he and Hound adjusted their positions, swinging their bodies to land on the dock while maintaining firm grips on both the ship and the pylons.

Prowl took a moment to study the ocean. While it was chaotic to a degree that made his logic centers ache, there was a random sort of order to the underlying physics that affected the ocean's movements.

Determining the pattern, Prowl patched into the bridge's communications again. _/Captain, I recommend you initiate full reverse thrust of your engines. Then brace yourselves./_

"Copy that." Came an equally calm and professional voice. "Engaging engines now."

Accordingly, the ship vibrated as she strained against the beings holding her. Prowl continued to watch the water. He commed Hound. _/Prepare to release the ship. Three… two…one… Now./_

Both Cybertronians gave a carefully calculated shove in time with the retreating tidal action of the stormy sea. Though both remained ready to catch the vessel should they need to, the human pilots managed to pull away successfully.

"My thanks, Commander Prowl." The captain radioed him a moment later.

The sincere gratitude did not surprise Prowl, considering the situation. It was the ease with which the humans had cooperated and coordinated with them. He had never met any of these humans before, yet they had listened to his recommended plan of action and had allowed him to lead that action. They had trusted him with their lives without noticeable hesitation or doubt.

It was only then that Prowl realized how much work the advanced team had accomplished in establishing trust with the native species of this planet.

Seldom were organics willing to trust Cybernetic species like them. It was a notable accomplishment and spoke volumes about the humans as a species.

Abruptly Prowl became aware the other three mechs had gathered behind him and turned. They had a mission to accomplish. He dismissed such pondering until after that mission was completed.

"Move out."

… ... …

Unlike Prime's advance team, Prowl and the mechs under his command did not wait idly by so the humans had an opportunity to move into position. Nor did he allow them to waste time debating the worth of their opponents.

Of course, Prowl was not aware of that comparison. He was simply executing the most efficient tactical option available. He was also following one of the oldest rules in the business of war, regardless of the fact that the odds were so tilted towards their victory as to make the end all but inevitable. And that rule was to not allow one's self to be caught 'flat-footed' as the humans might say.

They had a well thought out plan and it was illogical for them to delay in implementing it.

Prowl might not have had any way of knowing for sure, but he suspected the rough seas were making the human's dubious landing strategy – on their dubiously designated 'amphibious' vessel – tricky at the least.

The thought of their tiny, fragile allies being killed as their delicate bodies were dashed upon the rocky shore would have made any other mech shudder. As it was, Prowl did feel a distinct unease over the possibility.

It did not take long for the four Cybertronians too reach the canyon Prowl had selected. They continued till they reached an area that widened slightly, though the main canyon itself continued for another seventy meters. A small, narrow side ravine branched off, forming a wide 'V,' and was some ninety meters long. But that ravine was too narrow to worry about, it was to narrow even for a minibot to easily negotiate.

Briefly scanning the area, Prowl reached up to plant their flag on a rather scraggly, woody shrub that somehow managed to cling to the otherwise barren rock face. It was a short reach for Prowl, about the height of Ironhide's helm, but would doubtless prove a daunting challenge for the humans.

With a flick of his doorwings, Prowl turned to face his team. He scanned each one of them. Bluestreak was still nervous, but was thankfully more focused than he had been. Hound's optics were bright as the promise of combat grew closer. Mirage was still almost… disinterested. Distracted.

_/Focus, Mirage./_ Prowl sent on a tight comm. line to the spy. He did not believe in calling subordinates to task in a way that drew others' attention to the 'Bot's shortcomings. At least not when it could be avoided.

_/This is a waste of time… a waste of time that puts the humans' lives in danger./_ Mirage replied though he dutifully paid more attention to his surroundings.

_/They want to prove themselves. They deserve that chance./ _Prowl reminded the white and blue mech firmly. _/If you do not like that idea, focus on defeating them./_

Mirage's optics flashed ever so slightly as he read the tone in his commander's comm. The once-noble seemed to gather himself – an amazing feat, seeing as he was standing stiffly to begin with. Mirage nodded once.

Satisfied by the improved disposition of the spy, Prowl returned the nod. Then he sent a quick data-burst to all of them, confirming his previous orders. "Assume your positions."

The command was acknowledged immediately and all three dispersed.

Mirage literally disappeared from sight, his spark resonance fading to a barely-there echo as his cloaking field masked his presence. With a smile, Hound saluted and sauntered back down the canyon toward the edge of the forest. Bluestreak immediately lifted his optics to scan the canyon ridge – a rock wall that was taller even than Prime, but not by much. Finding what he was looking for, the young sniper immediately made his way to his chosen point of ascent.

Left alone to guard their flag, Prowl cast his sensors wide, taking in all the data he could gather, routing it through his battle computer in a smooth flow of input and processing that he slipped into with the ease of many long vorns of experience. Checking to make sure his sensor data feed with the rest of his team was fully operational, he checked once more to make sure his weapon was at the appropriate setting.

Satisfied, Prowl settled in to wait.

… … …

The hours ticked by. Three of them. Three hours, twenty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds, to be precise, before anything happened. Though it was little more than half a joor – and the Autobots were used to holding their positions and waiting for far longer than that – they were in no way perturbed by the wait.

Confused perhaps, they had quickly learned that humans operated on a much shorter time frame than Cybertronians, but they were not distracted.

As it was, the only thing that deigned to happen was that it started raining.

The wind howled through the canyons and tossed the tree tops. And had been since they had landed. It was not dangerous, by any means – not even for the humans – just irritating in that it played havoc with sensors: all that biological mass moving almost constantly. It was one of the many things Mirage found himself perturbed with on this planet. The rain only an added insult as far as he was concerned. The planet itself seemed determined to make the life of its native inhabitants as difficult as possible.

Perhaps that was why humans were so determined to go through with this silly contest. They were so used to having to prove their right to exist in the face of their own planet's hostility that it was only natural for that trait to carry over.

With a quiet venting of air, Mirage completed another perimeter scan, moving to yet another position some twenty yards from his previous post.

His only consolation was that the humans were probably even more miserable than he.

At twenty-eight minutes, fifty-five seconds into the fourth hour of their vigil, Bluestreak's voice filled the comm. line. _/I would have thought they would have done something by now. I mean, humans aren't exactly a patient species or anything, you know? Do you think they made land-fall alright? I mean, we don't need to go looking for them… search and rescue type of thing… do we?/_

Mirage huffed, quietly amused by the snipers obvious concern. Prowl answered. _/If there was a problem worthy of altering our mission, Optimus would have informed us./_

Mirage tuned out the rest of the short-lived conversation as Bluestreak asked another question. As foolish as he thought this venture to be, it was satisfying to at least be able to put his talents to work again.

Humans, and their absurdly primitive technology, would not have a hope of discovering him with his cloaking field. Especially their quaint little scanners could not pick up his energon reading with the field intact. While a part of his processor smirked, knowing he was immune to discovery, another part lamented the real possibility that that might also keep him from seeing any action in this exercise.

He softly snorted air through his olfactory vents. As if any contest against the humans could be correctly labeled as 'action.'

A 'slaughter' perhaps, even if it was only simulated, and the idea made his tanks roil slightly with disgust. As pathetic a life form as they were, his core programming protested their intentional off-lining. Training exercise or not.

Movement registered at the periphery of his scanning radius, but with the wind, that was nothing new. Still, dutifully, Mirage focused on the area, only to once again dismiss the anomaly as a naturally occurring phenomenon.

More movement caught his attention, to his left this time, but was quickly dismissed as attributable to local wildlife. Earth had so many forms of life it boggled the processor. While there were not that many catalogued as inhabiting this particular island, it did not surprise Mirage in the least for the humans to have missed some. They were, after all, rather inefficient.

Even so, his armor began to itch, the uneasy sensation of being watched gnawing at him. But that was a silly notion and he brushed it aside.

Then he gently chided himself, there was no need for him to get jumpy. These were only humans, after all and his cloak was working perfectly.

They could be right in front of him, close enough to touch his pede, and would be none the wiser to his presence.

Three hours and thirty-eight minutes. Mirage ran yet another scan – which confirmed a tiny increase in biologic signals – and shifted his weight to move to yet another position.

As he took a step however, two things happened at once. Bright pink paint suddenly blossomed across his chassis and something ensnared his legs, making him crash to the ground.

The absurdity of the situation stunned his processors more than the fall itself did. He realized belatedly that the fall had knocked out his cloaking shield. By then however, he was being swarmed by green and brown clad humans.

So surprised was Mirage he failed to respond before at least four of the humans fired multiple shots in quick succession. Within mere seconds, pink paint covered his chassis over his spark and another large collection of fluorescent splatter around a major energon feed to his lower body, while yet a third covered the entire side of his helm and neck.

An involuntary shudder worked its way through his frame as the humans leapt clear of him and began untangling whatever it was they had used to bring him down.

The shudder was as much for what had just happened as it was for the implications. That it had happened that easily… that he was truly that vulnerable to them…

It was impossible.

Yet, it had happened.

Mirage looked down at the paint sprawled across his chassis and abdomen, even as he sat up, splaying one hand across the hideous pink substance.

The feeling of being watched brought his gaze back to land on the highest-ranking human present: Major Lennox and, at his shoulder, Lieutenant Graham.

Brilliant blue optics locked with two pairs of organic eyes. The looks in the human's expressions were not as boastful as he would have expected.

Rather, the small organic faces that peered up at him were grim and determined and filled with tension. The reason for that was lost on the spy for a long moment as he continued to process what had happened, the humiliation he had just suffered.

Meanwhile, the rain continued to slant down between them, the wind howling around them.

Then understanding broke into Mirage's processor.

The humans were wary of what his reaction would be; unsure as to how he would accept his defeat. For the briefest of moments Mirage wondered why: did they not trust him to abide by the rules of the contest?

But then, he realized, he had not given them any reason to trust him. He had never gone out of his way to speak to any human except when duty gave him no other option. Nor had he made any secret of his general disdain for their abilities and technology.

It had not occurred to Mirage that what he had taken to be mutual ambivalence had actually bread distrust.

He had always seen them as being beneath his notice: a burden to be protected because it was the morally correct thing to do, but still a burden. And yet, they had managed to defeat him, despite his innate superiority. He could… respect _that_, at least.

Mirage did not like it, to be so easily defeated was _humiliating_, but he could accept it.

Swallowing his pride, a deed painful in its own right, Mirage tipped his helm, nodding to the two humans.

Their bodies relaxed slightly and they returned the gesture simultaneously. Then, as quickly as they had mounted the attack, the humans had melted back into the forest. That in itself was an amazing feat to witness, completed almost as efficiently as if they had their own cloaking shield. It reminded him how much the humans were a part of this planet and were much like it: full of surprises and much tougher than first appearances would indicate.

Mirage watched the greenery long after their biological readings had blended into the surroundings, only to look down at his newly acquired paint scheme.

The sight, made absurd once again, reminded Mirage to notify Prowl.

Cycling air through his systems as they heated with acute shame, Mirage triggered his comm. as he pushed himself to his pedes.

_/Commander…/_ His systems hitched painfully at what he had to convey.

Then he grit his denta. He would accept defeat as graciously as he could because his honor demanded no less. He had been foolish and overconfident, he deserved the humiliation that lapse had earned him. To do less would be to bring even greater shame down on his clan. That did not mean he liked it. Far from it. And the fact that he did not understand how it had happened only made it worse.

Mirage steeled himself. He would _not_ be a coward. _/Commander, the humans have bested me. I am withdrawing to the staging area./_

Prowl was a long time in replying, doubtlessly as stunned as Mirage himself at this turn of events.

However, when the reply came, it was calm, collected and as unflappable as always. _/Acknowledged./_

* * *

_One down, three to go, right? Please let me know what you are thinking._

_Note: I have no idea if Prowl's way of dealing with the ship at the dock is even physically possible, but I am not picturing a supper huge ship or anything... only 67 crew members after all. And no, I don't know how many people would normally crew a ship the size I am thinking of. Makes for a little bit of action at least. _


	3. Reconnoiter

Mirage hesitated at the perimeter of the staging area seeing Optimus Prime and Ratchet conversing quietly, seemingly unconcerned about the rain lashing at their frames. Of course, they had been on this planet longer and were no doubt used to the various weather conditions.

Drawing himself up, Mirage squared his shoulders and stepped into the clearing, trying to ignore the obnoxious paint that marred his armor.

His leader and CMO fell silent as he approached. The medic's optics flicked calculatingly over his frame, taking in the paint and how it covered him. A team of tiny organics had humiliated him. It was unbecoming of an Autobot to be so easily dispatched. The spy lifted his chin a fraction, bracing himself for whatever dressing down he was to receive for his failure.

Instead, Ratchet merely smirked, looking up at Optimus. "They have learned to concentrate their fire over a larger number of target areas in order to maximize damage."

"Ironhide's tutelage, no doubt." Optimus nodded, his voice a low rumble of…approval?

It struck Mirage at that point that neither of his superiors were disappointed or even the least bit surprised at his defeat. Rather, they seemed to be expecting it.

His shock must have shown on his faceplate, because Optimus smiled gently. "Surely you do not believe I would approve of including the humans directly in our combat operations if they had not already proven themselves. Proven themselves to me personally, do you?"

It took another couple of klicks for the full impact of his Prime's words to strike home.

Mirage felt his optics widening. "_You,_ sir?"

Somehow, the image of Optimus' majestic frame covered in splotches of pink paint was not one Mirage could easily conceive of.

Optimus was one of the greatest warriors Mirage had ever known, definitely the strongest and most highly respected. It was inconceivable that he could be defeated by a bunch of organics. _Little_ organics at that.

But Optimus was smiling – _smiling – _at the memory. "Yes, Mirage. You are not the first to be taken down by our small allies… and I highly doubt you will be the last."

… … …

Hound maintained his position with easy patience. While his function urged him to explore the island, he was a disciplined soldier and knew the opportunity would come once they had 'finished off' the human team. He was excited to get to see more of Earth than that tiny island called Diego Garcia, even if it was only another, even smaller island.

Even more so, he was excited to get the opportunity to see the natives in combat, knowing it was better they do so like this, where it was relatively safe, than in actual combat with Decepticons.

Even though Ironhide had confirmed the humans had eliminated Blackout, they had had aerial support at the time. The olive-green scout was convinced that had been the deciding factor. Impressive for a bunch of squishie little organics all the same.

Assuming, of course, it had not been a fluke of luck as Mirage insisted.

Even when the rain started to slant down, plinking off his armor in a steady staccato, Hound found that he was still excited. He kept his sensors trained on the surroundings, but was not foolish enough to believe he could easily distinguish the humans from the plant-life that seemed to be constantly moving in the wind. Not with his sensors alone and not with this being his first time surrounded by that much organic matter in a very, very long time. In a couple of days his sensors would be calibrated enough to handle the task on their own, but for now he kept a constant visual scan of his surroundings as well. Only the canyon at his back, devoid of the abundant greenery gave his sensors a break.

Not that he would change anything about his environs. All the little intricacies of the plant life amazed him. He could spend years studying just the things on this little island.

No. He had to focus. He scanned the area again.

When his communication systems buzzed with an incoming message on the command line, he accessed it without either hesitation or alarm.

Prowl's voice – calm and controlled as always – came back, his tone at odds with the words themselves. _/I have just been notified that Mirage has been eliminated from the game. As I do not believe he would have revealed himself without cause, I can only conclude they managed to detect him through his cloak. Hound, Bluestreak, stay on your guard. Hound, extend your perimeter to cover Mirage's position. Implement hologram diversions if you have not already done so. Perhaps we can call them out./_

_/Holograms already initiated, sir./_ Hound replied, taking a peek at one of his holograms a hundred meters away which showed a life-size version of himself leaning languidly against the canyon wall. He had another hologram deeper in the forest, but he had to be careful not to move that one too much or it would be given away by the fact that low hanging branches just passed through it. 'Low' being a relative term, of course.

_/Very good./_ Prowl acknowledged.

_/How could the __**humans**__ detect Mirage through his cloak?/_ Bluestreak asked. _/I mean, even __**we**__ can't do that. And they're far less technologically advanced. It just doesn't seem…/_

_/Bluestreak./_ Prowl cut him off. _/As curious as it is, it is a mystery that will have to wait until this exercise is completed./_

_/Yes, sir./_

Movement lashed the edges of Hound's sensors, but with the rain and the near constant shifting of the local flora in the wind, that was nothing new. However, news of Mirage's defeat had him jumpy and his gaze snapped that direction.

No sooner had he dismissed the false alarm than pink exploded over the armor covering his chassis. Several more projectiles splattered harmlessly against a nearby tree and the rock wall behind him.

He triggered his comm. _/Commander, I am under attack. I do not think the holograms fooled them./_ he quickly calculated the human's movements. _/They are withdrawing. I count ten of them./_ He sent the data.

Prowl came back only an astrosecond later. _/Pursue. Bluestreak, they are headed your direction. Prepare to create a cross fire./_

_/Acknowledged./_ Hound sent then started after the retreating humans, letting the apparently useless holograms dissolve into nothingness.

Bluestreak clicked his comm. in confirmation, then added. _/Ten… isn't that less than half of the humans on this mission? I thought they had twenty four of them on this mission. I mean I know they way out number us, but considering the size difference, it hardly still seems fair. Except that…/_

_/We can only assume Mirage managed to take out a majority of them before he was taken down./_ Was Prowl's calm rejoinder, gently stopping the sniper.

They had no way of knowing, of course, but Hound let himself be comforted by that conclusion. It made sense. With enough people to throw at the enemy for cannon-fodder, even the humans could conceivably take out one mech. It was how they doubtlessly got Blackout after all.

He aimed his own weapon at a human only to have the targeted individual throw himself to the side, behind cover. Undeterred, he shifted his aim to another, only to have the same results. In the meantime, pink continued to coat his frame, though not on any vulnerable areas.

His processor absently calculated how much more of this simulated 'abuse' he could take and knew he would reach Bluestreak's covering area long before it became a real threat to his 'existence'. No wonder there were so few left after their attack on Mirage, their inefficiency was almost painful to witness. He almost felt sorry for them.

If only the humans were larger. Their smaller size made it remarkably difficult to maintain a target lock on them.

Privy to his sensory feed, Prowl commed both him and Bluestreak a moment later. _/Do not try to target individuals, aim for vicinity./_

Clicking his own comm., Hound did exactly that. He focused on two humans who were preparing to fire at him again and got a shot first. The blast from his training weapon tagged both of them and they immediately withdrew. Lingering a few seconds longer to ensure they were not damaged in any way by the weak energy discharge, Hound turned to find his next target.

They seemed to realize the change in his tactics because they scattered, picking up speed to put more distance between them. _Adaptive indeed._

Hound was initially inclined to think it was fear that made them retreat faster, which made his spark lurch, but something did not quite match with that conclusion. He took aim again… and missed as the human executed a sharp maneuver.

Still moving forward, Hound regained his target and this time the human looked right at him, his eyes gleaming. The look gave Hound pause.

It was not fear. It was _excitement._ The type of excitement that made one forget the soreness of tired joints and cables, the excitement that gave a warrior more energy than the best highgrade. It was a mirror to the looks he had seen in any myriad of Autobot faceplates: the thrill of combat.

As short as it was, Hound's distraction was enough. The man picked himself up and fired off another shot. Jolted back to the moment as more paint oozed down his armor, Hound refocused and fired.

The man stopped running and shimmied out of the way as expected and Hound quickly looked to find a new target. He did not see the grin that stretched across the man's face. Nor did Hound see the surreptitious high-fives he exchanged with the two other humans he had tagged earlier.

And, even if he had, it was doubtful he would have known what the gesture meant or why he should care.

_/I see you, Hound./_ Bluestreak's comm. was crisp and business like; quite the opposite of his more usual demeanor.

Two more steps and Bluestreak spoke again. _/Opening fire./_

Energy from the sniper's training weapon flashed and another human dropped out of the fight.

_/Thanks Blue'./ _Hound sent, lining up another shot.

_/You're welcome…/ _There was a long pause. _/Though it is rather strange to be firing at such tiny, helpless crea…/_

Three things happened at once. The humans suddenly stopped retreating, something ensnared his legs mid stride causing him to crash to the ground and Bluestreak's comm. signal abruptly cut off.

… … …

Bluestreak shifted his position, sliding along his chassis and abdominal plating so as not to present a large profile for any humans on the ground. The humans would have called the maneuver a 'panther crawl' though that designation hardly applied to an eighteen-foot robotic life form.

He moved until he was in a position that would allow him to better offer covering fire for his fellow Autobot.

His keen audios could pick up the sporadic plunking of paint projectiles on armor, though it was difficult to distinguish over the sound of rain pounding his own armor.

He lifted his rifle, sighting on the bourgeoning conflict that was edging ever closer to him.

Movement whipped the sparse vegetation along the canyon wall, but his focus was stayed on the battle he was about to interrupt. The wind had been playing havoc with his sensors since they had landed, making him think many times that storm tossed foliage was a human lying in wait.

No. His real targets were below. He would not allow himself to get distracted. It was highly unlikely they would be able to get to his position without him noticing any way. And Prowl was right, there could not be that many of them left, not after Mirage got done with them.

The range finder on his weapon sent an alert to his processor and Bluestreak activated his comm. _/I see you Hound./_

The humans were completely focused on Hound; painfully oblivious to his presence above them on the canyon rim. That was exactly what he had wanted. If he had been a Decepticon, they would only be moments from death…

He pushed that thought aside.

He was _not_ a Decepticon.

This was just a training exercise.

Still, he did not want them to dislike him after they lost the contest. Organics tended to take things like that personally. He hadn't been on earth all that long and was hoping to make friends with some of the native sentient species. But if he beat them, they might not like him any more.

With a flick of his doorwings, Bluestreak forced aside that thought as well, focusing on the moment with an effort of will. Taking a deep vent he locked onto a target. _/Opening fire./_ He sent, then did exactly that.

One human – surprisingly only one – immediately moved a 'safe' distance from the combat. Bluestreak's sensor idly tracked him as he made his way toward the three previously 'off-lined' humans, just to make sure he was safe.

_/Thanks Blue'./_ Hound's message murmured across his CPU.

Bluestreak blinked but responded automatically. _/You're welcome…/_

He was completely unused to fighting a foe where one shot automatically meant one kill. It was disconcerting and his programming screamed at him how _wrong_ it was. Then Bluestreak found himself babbling, even as he made his hands shift his rifle a fraction of an inch to find another target. It was fueled by an old, familiar, nervous tension that always reared its head when he felt something was not right.

_/Though it feels rather strange to be firing at such tiny, helpless crea…/_

Paint suddenly exploded between his doorwings in a rapid concussion of florescent pink. He knew, had they been sabot rounds, they would have left his doorwings a jumbled mess, off-lining the sensors and sending crippling pain radiating through his frame.

Shuddering involuntarily at the thought, Bluestreak twisted around, pushing against the rock with his right arm to look over his left shoulder, only to See Epps level what looked suspiciously like a rocket launcher.

The man smiled predatorily and then slammed his hand on the trigger.

Bluestreak flinched, but still semi-sprawled on the ground as he had been, he only had his left hand available to try and deflect the projectile. Like the humans themselves, however, it was far too small and struck him squarely on the collar strut, exploding in a wave of paint.

Had it been a magnesium burning, reinforced anti-armor round like NEST carried, it would have ripped through most of his neck. The two injuries combined would have definitely knocked him out of the battle if not into the Well of Allsparks.

Feeling that sudden tension leave his frame, unsure exactly why or how, Bluestreak flopped inelegantly onto his back, looking up at the stormy sky and completely heedless of the rain now striking him fully in the faceplate.

They had gotten behind him. Somehow they had flanked him. His processor whirred, not only that, they had actually managed to successfully take him out. He had not even been aware he was in danger. But had this been a real battle he would be dead. It was… it was…

He started laughing, incredulously at first but that soon gave way to frame shaking guffaws. It was more a further release of tension than a reaction to anything truly humorous, but that did not stop Bluestreak.

"You okay, big guy?" A human voice asked unexpectedly close to his audio receptors.

Bluestreak jerked back in his surprise only to find the movement put him too close to the edge of the canyon wall. With a startled yelp, he tipped over the rim and felt gravity take hold.

The sniper heard startled exclamations from the humans and was careful not to unintentionally strike any of them as his fingers caught at the rough rock. Finding purchase before his fall even really had a chance to begin, still laughing the whole while, Bluestreak popped his helm back over the edge of the canyon.

To a person, the humans jumped slightly.

"I'm _great!_" He grinned at them.

They blinked at his bright answer even as they backed up to allow him to climb back up over the edge of the cliff-face. He continued his explanation.

"I really didn't think you'd be able to do that and I still don't know how you snuck up on me like that. But you did and you got me and that is just so unexpected and it's really, really neat. See, I was all worried that you guys wouldn't like us after we won or that we'd accidentally hurt you and then you'd really be mad at us. If that happened we couldn't be friends. But it didn't. You got me instead." He grinned widely at their surprised expressions. "Now I know what Ironhide meant when he called Sideswipe a pink-aft."

Something in his excited rambling made the humans chuckle. That only made Bluestreak even happier.

Finally Epps shook his head, though genuine mirth had replaced the predatory smile he had worn earlier. Then he put his finger to his ear-piece. A second later, to short a time for him to have received any verbal communication, he gestured to his men who immediately began moving away.

Bluestreak looked down, suddenly embarrassed by his rambling. There was no way the humans could understand the reasons for his incessant need to speak. It could only make him look like a fool, especially after losing so spectacularly. What if...

"Hey, Bluestreak…" The sniper looked back at Epps to see the man smiling warmly, compassionately.

"Yes, Master Sergeant?" Bluestreak asked softly, almost hopefully.

"Good game." The human lifted his weapon in a respectful salute.

Bluestreak quickly shuttered and un-shuttered his optics. Then his smile reappeared. "Thank you. You too."

With another friendly smile, the man was gone.

… … …

Hound Watched the 'surviving' humans melt back into the forest with the same astonishing speed with which they had launched the attack that had actually bested his defenses.

With a bemused expression, Hound's gaze flicked to the humans who joined him in defeat. Not sure what to expect, he was met with generally pleasant expressions. With a wry shake of his helm, Hound pushed himself to his pedes, well aware he was being watched carefully the whole time.

Brushing stray greenery off his armor, careful not to let it rain down on the small organics, he gave them and intentionally asymmetric smile. "Not bad."

One of the men, Lieutenant Graham, gave him a tiny salute. "Back at you ol' chap."

Hound looked at the pink that was splattered liberally across his frame. It contrasted rather painfully with his olive-green finish. "Why pink?"

"It was fitting." Was all the man said and with no inflection. When Hound looked back at him closely, however, he could not miss the amused glint in his green-blue eyes, the slight twitch at the corner of the man's lips. It must be some cultural thing he did not know the full context of.

He had not been on Earth long, had not gotten to know many of its inhabitants very well at all. But he found himself laughing, regardless of any fun that was being had at his expense. "Taking our afts and handing them back to us on a pink platter are ya?"

That got a few actual snickers out of the men.

"Something like that." Private Smith agreed lightly.

The sound of metal scraping along rock and then crashing through light foliage reached his audios just before the ground shook under his pedes. The noise drew all their attention back towards the canyon wall only to see Bluestreak amble out from between the sparse trees. He too was doused in pink paint.

Hound and the sniper stared at each other for a long moment, then both chuckled.

Bluestreak looked at the humans, pointing to Hound. "Nice work. At least he managed to get some of you. I didn't even see the people who got me till it was to late."

Hound shook his helm. "Indeed. I suppose we should get to the staging area." He looked at Bluestreak and unspoken agreement passed between them. Together they knelt down and offered a hand each for the humans.

As they walked, humans safely perched either in their hand or on their shoulders, Hound activated his external comm. out of politeness so that their entire party could hear. "Commander Prowl, I must report that both Bluestreak and myself have been successfully eliminated."

A long pause, then Prowl replied, his voice tight but still without noticeable emotion. _/Understood./_

They walked along in silence, a silence that was not broken for a long time except by the gentle sound of their pedes pressing into the wet forest floor.

"Poor Prowl." Bluestreak said suddenly.

"Poor Prowl?" Hound queried, stepping carefully over a log.

"Yes. You know how his logic systems are. They are probably really stressed. I mean really, _really_ stressed. I bet he has a processor ache the size of a small moon." Bluestreak shook his head. "More than that… he is all alone now."

… … …

The rain continued to fall, cascading off Prowl's slick armor as he acknowledged Hound's 'final' report. Beyond the tenor plink of rain off living metal; he was surrounded by the softer splatter of falling water on rock. Heavy, dark, gray clouds cast the area in shadow that made the glow of his optics the brightest objects in the area.

Three and a half local hours with no activity and then all three of his mechs taken out in less than one. He did not even know how they had managed that. Did not know what tactics he would have to confront. Could not even conceive of anything that such tiny, fragile, inexperienced and technically primitive people could do that could defeat one mech, let alone three in such short order.

Logic said it should not matter; they were fragile organics who did not stand a chance to superior firepower and technology. But reality was proving differently.

It was a situation he never expected to be faced with. A situation none of his planning had prepared for. Circumstances that, no matter how hard he pushed his battle computer, he could not devise an effective strategy against because he simply did not have enough information.

He felt the strain build between his optics, as his systems whirred futilely over the situation.

And all he could do was wait for whatever was to come next.

* * *

_Am I mean or what? _

_As always, please review: reviews make the writer's world go round after all… _


	4. Strategic Positioning

_Sorry for the long delay, my family has just recently suffered yet another loss and pure emotional exhaustion has kept me from writing or editing anything for a week. For that same reason this is not as edited as my stuff usually is. However, I wanted to get it out as soon as possible, so here you go._

_For those of you following More Than a Guardian, presuming there is not a third death in the immediate family in the mean time, I am hoping to have the next chapter ready to post within a week._

* * *

Prowl's doorwings twitched as the sensitive panels detected the approach of a group of organic beings down the main canyon. While only a miniscule fraction of the possible scenarios he had predicted had included the possibility the humans would even make it this far, they were at least for now, following the predicted path.

That was reassuring. The pressure eased off his logic systems ever so slightly.

Hands tightening reflexively on his weapon, Prowl cycled air through his systems and focused on the sensor blips as they drew near.

He only counted eight, which, assuming the humans had split their forces to take out both Bluestreak and Hound, said mechs had managed to successfully winnow down their numbers.

Logically, Prowl knew that if the warriors of Earth had successfully taken out three highly skilled mechs, they had a very high likelihood of being able to take him out as well. Even so, it was so improbable that an organic species like the humans – especially with their level of technology – could do so, that the contradiction made his processor ache.

Even so, he accepted his likely fate, as implausible as it might be, with aplomb.

The humans rounded the last bend in the canyon with an explosion of speed that, while not fast by Cybertronian standards, was sufficient that it threw off his aim and his first shot went wide.

They scattered to take up positions behind cover with admirable speed, while opening fire themselves.

As was only to be expected, their shots were not very accurate. Paint splattered harmlessly over thick armor plates, not even approaching anything debilitating. Occasionally, some even exploded against rock rather than metal.

A part of his processor was troubled by this development. How could these same beings possibly have succeeded in defeating Bluestreak, Mirage and Hound as disorganized and ineffective as they obviously were? Of course, that indicated that the ineffectiveness was an aberration rather than the standard.

He fired at a human who strayed out from behind cover and was rewarded as the man dropped his weapon, lifting his hands in surrender as he backed out of the combat zone.

Meanwhile, his processor continued to work on the discrepancy in available evidence and current activities. Physical exhaustion on the humans' part was the only logical conclusion.

That or a deliberate misdirection.

Warnings flashed through his processor as his logic systems strained. Prowl pushed them aside.

If it _was_ a misdirection, he had to figure out what their real intention was and quickly. His battle systems strained to calculate possibilities, but he had chosen this location because it supported a successful defense: limited approach and virtually no organic matter to cloud his sensors.

The human he fired at managed to dart out of the way just in time. Then he saw Lennox. His processor still working on the dilemma, as well as spinning out hundreds of possible strategies for finishing this fight, Prowl leveled his weapon at the human.

It never hurt to take down the opposition's leader.

Of all things, Lennox smiled when optics met eyes. In that brief millisecond of time, which stretched into its own eternity, the human _smiled_.

Prowl shuttered his optics, wincing at the absurdity of the soldier's reaction, even as the human in question shouted, "Now!"

Prowl had only enough time to wonder what that meant, when sudden movement came from behind him and his legs were ensnared by some type of cable.

Prowl staggered, attempted to catch his balance, but instead crashed to his knees. Only the fact that he had been stationary kept him from landing flat on his faceplate. Even so, he had to use one hand to catch himself.

At the same time, more paint was hurled at him from the same direction the cable had come from. From behind. But that was impossible. There was nothing behind him but the cliff-face and that tiny ravine that was to narrow for even a minibot…

Except humans were substantially _smaller_ than minibots.

All of this was crashing over his processors even as Prowl realized the new barrage, had it been real sabot rounds, would have disabled his legs completely. The blows to his doorwings would have disabled his doorwings and crippled him with pain.

It took him a moment longer to realize the humans had ceased firing entirely. Obedient to the rules of the game, now that his legs were 'damaged beyond use,' Prowl made no attempt to regain his pedes.

He could see now how his final defeat would play out. Immobilized, they would doubtlessly use their greater numbers to overcome him. Idly he realized that his speculation about the seeming disorganization of their initial attack to have been a misdirection had in fact been accurate.

He had failed to correctly discern what their true intentions had been. While he disliked the fact that he had failed, he could not contest said fact.

Lennox stepped toward him, weapon raised but not firing yet, "Perhaps you wish to surrender, Commander?"

Prowl shuttered his optics briefly yet again, his doorwings hitching slightly. That was not what he expected. "Why should I surrender, Major Lennox?"

"Because we have your flag."

Prowl's vents flared, his optics widening slightly. "You…do?"

He glanced over his shoulder, only to see the gray and red banner he had assumed secure from their reach was being held aloft by two humans.

It was too much. His logic systems stalled completely.

He looked back at the human military commander, was aware the human was saying something. Then blackness crowded his vision, taking the pain in his processor with it into nothingness.

… … …

Optimus stood in a relaxed pose, seemingly ambivalent about the rain that continued to soak the small clearing. Ratchet likewise did not seem to notice the precipitation. Mirage, on the other hand, would periodically flick water off his armor – as futile as the gesture ultimately was.

Suddenly Ratchet straightened. "Someone is coming. Two spark signatures."

Mirage somehow stiffened in surprise before darting his optics toward the edge of the clearing the direction he knew they would approach from. Optimus kept his expression neutral as Ratchet smirked.

The CMO continued. "They've got four NEST soldiers with them."

Bluestreak and Hound chose that moment to enter the clearing, each with two humans perched on their shoulders. They were chatting easily with the soldiers, something Optimus was pleased to see. Especially as Bluestreak was laughing freely.

While Bluestreak's frame showed evidence of the same pin-point accuracy that marked Mirage's, Hound was more liberally coated in pink. While the 'killing' blows were clearly noted to two major energon lines – one on his neck and the other on his upper abdomen – most of the flourescent splatters seemed randomly if not haphazardly placed.

Optimus recognized the evidence of a similar feint that had led him into Lennox's trap. He smiled slightly as both 'Bots came to a stop before him.

"So, they got you right where they wanted you, eh Hound?" Ratchet noted dryly before looking at Bluestreak. "Clean shots." He looked at the humans. "You are getting even better."

"Thanks Ratch." Lieutenant Graham called back.

"What do you mean, 'they got me where they wanted me?'" Hound asked, his faceplate openly puzzled though not at all insulted.

"I'm sure Major Lennox will explain once the exercise is complete." Optimus held up a hand to forestall further speculation.

Bluestreak seemed to suddenly remember his passengers. "Oh. We're here aren't we? You guys want down? I didn't mean to be rude, and it would be very rude if I didn't remember that wouldn't it? But it is rather muddy and I'm sure you are tired of being in the mud and all that. But not everyone likes to be carried and I don't want to offend you or anything, so I'll put you down now."

He offered his hand to the men on his shoulder. But the soldiers were looking past the proffered palm at the mud below. Slowly one shook his head. "Actually, if it's all the same, I think I'd rather stay up here."

Bluestreak blinked in surprise, but his smile was genuine. "Of course. What about you private Smith?"

"I'll stay too. Thank you, Bluestreak."

Hound looked down at the ground and saw that his pedes were indeed sinking into the mud. He looked to the humans on his shoulder. "You guys don't have to get down either, if you don't want to."

"Thanks ol' chap." Lieutenant Graham gave the plating along his mandible line a sound thump.

Mirage, whom Optimus noted was shifting his weight subtly from pede to pede, finally spoke up. "How… how were you two taken out?"

Bluestreak looked up and smiled. "I'm still trying to figure that out. But they got behind me and the next thing I knew I had all this paint all over me and if it had been real I would have been dead. They really, really got me didn't they?"

Mirage blinked his optic shutters, then looked at Hound. The green scout shrugged with the shoulder devoid of humans and swung that same arm toward Ratchet grinning. "Like Ratch said, I guess they got me where they wanted me."

Mirage blinked again.

… … …

Prowl onlined slowly at first, as was common when his logic centers caused a system-wide crash. But it did not take him long to recall the conditions that had led to that crash.

The 'battle' against the humans, the humans successfully 'immobilizing' him, the humans claiming the Autobot's flag…

A brief scan showed only one human life sign.

Had he hurt any of the others when he fell?

Doubtful. His frame would most likely have been moved if anyone had gotten trapped beneath him and that had not happened. His chronometer showed he had been off-line for two breems.

As his systems came to full operational status his scanners registered additional details. Such as the fact that the single human life sign was not just nearby, but was actually on his chassis. Doubtless, the human was there to gloat. Of course, considering the victory he and his men had achieved, Prowl could not honestly say it would be undeserved. Especially in light of his own demeaning opinions of the human's abilities.

Onlining his optics, Prowl looked at Major Lennox. The man was sitting with one leg hanging over the side of an armor plate, the other knee folded up with that arm draped across it. He was fiddling with something on his uniform with his free hand.

Seeming to sense the scrutiny, Lennox looked up. The smile that lit the human's face, while perhaps a bit smug, was mostly relieved. "You had me scared there for a moment, Commander. But Ratchet said you'd come around alright."

Prowl revved his engine, but did not dare move while the human was still perched on him. It was the first time he had been in such… close proximity to any human and he was not entirely sure what he should do.

"Indeed. I am functioning within normal parameters." He shuttered his optics. He detested his tendency to crash when his logic systems received too much contradictory information containing to high an emotional quotient. It had been vorns since his last crash and it was shameful that an _alien_ would see him in such a weakened state.

"You know… this isn't the first time we've had to prove ourselves." Prowl looked back at the human again to see he was being thoughtfully appraised.

Prowl narrowed his optics. "Are you saying this end was inevitable?"

Lennox smiled widely, but it was an honest smile. "Not at all. But it is always easier to take down an opponent when they underestimate you."

Prowl considered the human. True, it was humiliating to have crashed – especially after loosing so spectacularly – but Lennox had sent the others of his team away. Had he done so to spare Prowl's dignity? Perhaps.

Also, Lennox was not being conceited or boastful over his victory, something he would expect an organic creature to do in his place. The Praxian could appreciate that consideration. "And it appears that I have indeed underestimated you, Major. For that I do apologize."

Lennox only ducked his head, as if embarrassed. "Don't worry about it, Commander. Core programming is core programming. I can't begrudge that. And you weren't intentionally nasty about it like some have been."

"Sideswipe?" Prowl took an educated guess.

Lennox nodded. "Among others, including Ironhide. Have to admit to a certain amount of satisfaction when we got to paint their afts pink."

Prowl could not stop the almost-smirk that ghosted across his faceplate at that. "I can imagine." Then he hesitated.

It took a certain amount of trust to sit so laxly on his chassis like that. Like the transport ships crew had trusted him to protect their lives. It was that trust that Prime and his advanced team had worked to build. How much had his previous attitude damaged that trust?

It would be easier to figure things out if he was not laying flat on his back like a drone in need of maintenance. It might not make a difference for his processor functions, but it would at least help salve his pride… a little.

"Do you mind if I sit up major?" He asked quietly.

"Not at all."

Lennox made to start sliding off his armor, but Prowl raised a palm underneath the man. He did not wish to be rude. "That is not necessary, Major."

An expressive eyebrow quirked at that, but the human stopped moving. The man did not even flinch as Prowl's hand cupped around him as he sat up. Opening his hand, he was met with a questioning, slightly bemused expression on the human military leader's face.

But the human did not ask whatever it was he was considering, instead opting for a neutral statement. "They, um, they are waiting for us at the staging area."

"You stayed with me." Prowl observed lamely, looking around to confirm what his scanners had indicated; that none of the other humans had stayed with their commander. "Alone." He added.

Lennox only shrugged, as if it was no big deal for him to stay with an eighteen foot robotic alien all by himself. An alien whom he did not know and had no reason to trust. "Abandoning our allies is not something we do, even if it's just a training exercise or an embarrassing personal quirk. Besides, figured you'd appreciate not having everyone around gawking when you came to."

An embarrassing personal quirk? Was it possible this human was willing to overlook such a humiliating incident so easily?

Prowl's doorwings flicked briefly, then he nodded once. "Yes, it is appreciated, Major. Shall we not make our way to the staging area?"

Lennox nodded.

Because it was easy to do, and was unquestionably the most efficient option available, Prowl simply pulled the hand holding Major Lennox closer to his chassis to protect its occupant and levered himself to his pedes. He kept his sensors trained on the human but did not pick up any indicators that his passenger was particularly stressed. It was as if he trusted Prowl with his safety – or was at least very skilled in hiding any evidence of his fear.

Prowl was tempted to assume Major Lennox was unique among humans, except his memory files once again replayed just how easily the members of the transport ship's crew had trusted him with their lives.

Humans were definitely a unique species with far more potential than he had given them credit for.

"Major," he began quietly and hesitated until the human looked up at him. "I apologize for the low opinion I had of your abilities, and those of your people."

Surprise flickered briefly in those expressive eyes, then understanding. "Apology accepted, Commander. I should apologize to you as well. I was really, really enjoying whipping your aft."

Prowl's lip plates quirked in an almost smirk even as he held a branch away so it would not brush Lennox off his hand. "Thank you, though I do not blame you. In your place, I would doubtless feel the same. That said, do not think it will be so easy in the future."

Lennox's only response was an answering smirk.

… … …

All eyes and optics turned toward Prowl as he entered the staging area. The Praxian paused two steps into the clearing as he became aware that he was suddenly the center of attention.

Optimus was interested to note that the garish paint mostly covered his lower extremities, though a few splattered harmlessly across his chassis. His doorwings, however, showed evidence of substantial 'damage.' He moved stiffly, but that was not out of the ordinary especially when he was the focus of attention he did not want, though one hand was cupped loosely in front of him. The sight was startlingly incongruent to the last time Optimus had seen his SIC: even if his demeanor was strict, the effect was ruined by the human who was dangling his legs off the side of the hand holding him.

Ratchet discretely saved the visual, thinking it oddly endearing. Especially for Prowl.

Lennox waved a hand at his men – who were now perched on various 'Bots, having to a man been given a generous offer to get out of the mud once they entered the clearing. It was a service the Autobots had been happy to extend to their smaller allies. Well, most of the Autobots. Mirage did not have any soldiers clinging to his armor.

Seeing that almost all of his fellows were carrying at least one human, Prowl did not bother to lower Lennox to the ground as he came to a stop in front of his Prime.

Ratchet looked him over. "No killing blow. They only disabled you."

Prowl nodded, his systems heating in embarrassment and he thought he noted a hint of disappointment in the CMO's statement. Surprisingly, Lennox saved him from having to explain _why_ it had not been necessary.

"We did what he had to in order to get the flag he guarded. Nothing more." Lennox gave Ratchet a mock dirty look. "It isn't like we're cold-blooded killers or anything."

"Right." Ratchet drawled, shaking his head. "You didn't enjoy messing with our paint schemes at _all,_ either."

"Hey!" Epps piped up from Ratchet's shoulder. "We helped clean you guys up. We'd be more than happy to help them too."

"Yeah," one of the other soldiers concurred. "Wouldn't want you to think we don't clean up after ourselves."

"You just wanted to rub it _in_." Ratchet snarked back, though there was no bite to his words and a smile played on his faceplates.

Prowl observed the casual way the humans bantered with the CMO, how at ease they were perched on armor panels – and not just of the warriors but on Prime himself – and realized he had also underestimated how integrated their two respective forces already were.

He found himself hoping that his prejudiced attitude had not damaged that cohesion.

That thought made him remember Optimus' behavior prior to their deployment on this mission. Not just Optimus' but all of the advance team. He remembered Sideswipe's barely concealed glee at the prospect of he and his team taking on the humans. Things suddenly made sense.

Prowl looked at his leader. "Prime, you knew we would be defeated today?"

Optimus only gave his Second in Command a compassionate look. "I knew it was the _likely_ outcome. You do not believe I would have been as strongly in favor of including our allies directly in combat operations if they had not already proven their abilities to me?"

Prowl drew his head back a fraction, glanced down at Lennox who only shrugged. He blinked, then nodded his concession to his Prime's words. His logic centers, however, were straining once again at the thought of seeing Optimus' covered in pink paint.

"That doesn't explain how they did it!" Mirage spoke suddenly, his irritation mixed with increasing consternation. "I was _cloaked_."

"Indeed." Optimus looked at Lennox in question. "How did you overcome that hurdle?"

Curious himself, though oddly unsurprised now that they had been able to do so, Prowl also looked at the human in his hand. The man hesitated just a moment, looking briefly at his own Second in Command in yet another, dare he call it eerie, exchange of silent communication. Then Lennox spoke.

"Well, we figured the same approach we used against Prime and his team wouldn't work again since we based that on our observations of those seven. While we didn't have as much first hand experience with you four, we knew Commander Prowl was not one to approach something like this without a strategy. We were fairly confident you would know about the difficulty sensing us in the underbrush and would take measures to mitigate that." He looked back at Prowl with a lopsided grin.

"Unsuccessfully, apparently." Prowl noted, though completely without reproach.

Lennox shook his head, smiling fully. "Not necessarily. It didn't take us three and a half hours to launch our first assault because we got lost in the jungle. The island isn't _that_ big. Nope. We deduced that only three out of the available five canyons would meet your likely requirements and then we got lucky in choosing to scout the one Optimus chose first. It took us just over two and a half hours to move into position slow enough you didn't notice us."

"What stealth techniques did you utilize?" Prowl asked, genuinely curious regardless of the fact what ever it was had been used to humiliate him and his team.

"Good old fashioned time and patience." Lennox grinned. "The wind helped. There was so much movement in the greenery we were able to move faster than normal… well, faster than we would have been able to otherwise."

Prowl blinked, thinking back to all the sensor blips at the edge of his sensor range, which he had attributed to the local environment. Subtly – not to mention patience – was not a trait he had witnessed on base.

"That does not explain how you bested my cloak." Mirage demanded again.

Prowl sensed the increase in Lennox's heart rate. A fear response? No. Irritation. The soldier took a deep, presumably calming, breath. "Ratchet explained you guys depend on a combination of both visual senses and sensors which detect your spark resonance and energon readings. At least to detect one another. Your cloak bends light around you and muffles your spark and energon readings, correct?"

Mirage nodded, stiffening at the Major's tone. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but even with it you are still a large mechanical life-form. You leave footprints in the soft dirt. Also…" And here the major grinned, though he was no less serious. "It doesn't keep the rain from landing on you. Have to admit, the weather helped us there and admittedly, it would have been a lot harder if the rain hadn't started when it did."

"The rain? You could pin-point my location because of the slagging _rain_?" Mirage's hands fisted angrily

"Yep." Lennox nodded. "Never thought I'd be that thankful for a little tropical down pour."

"Yeah, no kidding." Epps seconded.

Mirage fell silent, glancing around at the gathered humans, seeing them nod in silent agreement with their leaders. It was clear he was not happy. But it also was clear that unhappiness went deeper than mere vanity. Prowl was interested to note that Lennox was watching the spy closely and wondered what the Major was thinking.

Major Lennox relieved him of that mystery by speaking, his voice carefully measured, demanding attention and respect. "Our success today is not a reflection of your skills, Mirage, and none of _us_ see it that way. We have faced your kind in combat before, you have never had the same opportunity to do that. Besides. Like Ironhide said, we're adaptive. Probably our greatest strength."

"Indeed." Optimus said warmly and Prowl found himself nodding in agreement.

The human tipped his chin in silent acknowledgement, though his gaze never left the spy. Even Prowl could see the subtle shift in Mirage's posture as Lennox stood, gripping the nearest finger on the hand holding him. The tactician was impressed once again at the sheer command presence the Major was able to radiate when he chose to. Even when being held in someone's hand.

Mirage actually drew his helm back a fraction as Lennox met his glacial gaze. "Mirage. We did not beat you today because you lacked talent or skill or anything like that. We were able to beat you because you underestimated us and did not take us seriously and relied entirely on the advantage you had over us. Over confidence plus willing ignorance is the recipe for disaster. You are an experienced warrior, you know this Mirage and you don't need me to tell you. You only allowed preconceived assumptions about _our_ skills abilities and experience to blind you. And _that_ is why we won."

Everything in the clearing went absolutely still. Rain gently plinking off armor and clothing was the only sound for several long klicks. In that stillness, human commander and Autobot spy continued to regard each other in a silent duel of wills and pride.

Long vorns in Mirage's company allowed Prowl to see the silent struggle in the younger mech's processor. It was a more direct challenge to the high-born mech's perceived self worth than Mirage had had to process in a long time. Prowl himself had been forced to administer the last one and that was eons ago, when the spy had first joined their ranks.

Prowl tensed, not sure in that moment what the outcome would be, determined to act if needed to contain the storm that could be generated by Mirage's internal battle.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Mirage took half a step backward, turning slightly away from Major Lennox. After a second's longer hesitation, the elegant helm dipped slightly in an ancient sign of respectful submission. Prowl would have doubted the humans would catch the subtle implications, except Lennox exhaled softly in surprise.

Mirage's words, however strained and painfully formal they might have been, were unambiguous. "You are correct, Major. I hereby stand corrected and… ask your pardon."

Major Lennox hesitated, his vital signs registering increasing surprise. But it only lasted for two of his organic heartbeats before his whole body relaxed. "Of course, Mirage. Of course."

The entire clearing took either a collective breath or a cycle of air, including the two beings involved in the confrontation.

Prowl felt his respect for the human NEST commander jump upward yet again at his deft handling of that potentially volitile situation. Here was a man who was just as much a leader as Optimus, species not withstanding.

Major Lennox was grinning as he gestured to Hound and Bluestreak, both of whom shifted uneasily. Doubtlessly neither wanted to be on the receiving end of such a dressing down, regardless of how tactfully and respectfully it was delivered.

"You two, on the other hand, took more coordination. We knew we wouldn't have a chance to get close enough to you Bluestreak without being spotted unless you were sufficiently distracted. Soooo…" He looked at Hound. "We harassed you into pursuing us in order to draw you to an area where Bluestreak would be able to concentrate on helping you."

Hound's optics brightened. "_That's_ when you sprung the trap?"

"Yep." Lieutenant Graham confirmed, giving the green mech's mandible line another firm pat. "Seeing as you already had experience with us being 'disorganized and ineffective' and what not, you wouldn't see it coming."

"Nope." Hound confirmed. "One minute I'm firing away, the next I'm flat on my aft." Hound snickered. "Sneaky little slaggers."

"Why thank you, ol' chap." Graham was grinning along with most of the humans at the praise.

"I'm still embarrassed it worked." Hound muttered, looking at his pede.

"Don't be." Epps called from his perch on Ratchet's shoulder. "You weren't the only one that technique worked on."

"Optimus' engine rumbled lowly. "Indeed. But I shall not fall for it again, my friend." The humans laughed heartily while all of the new arrivals, to a 'Bot, could only stare.

With a quiet rev, Optimus cleared his vents. "And that distraction was sufficient for you to take Bluestreak by surprise?"

"You betcha." Epps confirmed, though his expression showed he was not ignorant to Optimus' intentional diversion.

"Oh, they surprised me alright. Surprised me so much I fell off the canyon rim." Bluestreak announced proudly. "But I caught myself."

"Yeah, that scared the daylights outta us." Another soldier noted.

Bluestreak shrugged, carefully mindful of the soldiers perched on his armor. "Even if I had fallen, it wasn't that far of a drop. I probably would have only had a few dents and scrapes. I didn't mean to worry you though, and I appreciate your concern. I really do."

There were a few light-hearted chuckles and then all grew quiet again, optics and eyes turning to look at Prowl. The Praxian felt his systems heat once again as he looked down, only to see Lennox considering him closely. It was the same expression he had worn when considering Mirage. It made him rather uneasy about what was coming, though he did nothing to show it.

"Do you want to tell them what happened, or do you want me to do it?"

Prowl blinked in surprise, then nodded to the human military commander. "I appreciate the offer Major. But in the interest of equity and fairness, I do not believe I should be exempt from the same critique as my fellow Autobots."

That and, if he was to be humiliated, he did not want to do it to himself. That reasoning, however, he kept to himself.

Those gray-green eyes continued to regard him for a moment and the Praxian had the distinct impression the human had heard his unspoken conclusion regardless. Then Prowl thought he saw something change in the man's gaze, but the man nodded before he could define that change.

"Part of our initial recon of your position included staging a team of six in that little side canyon to wait for their opportune moment. Figured that even if you thought to worry about that canyon you wouldn't be able to get to 'em… but I'm guessing you did not even count on us being able to use that little crevice."

Prowl shook his helm. "An error in judgment I shall not make again."

Lennox smiled briefly before continuing. "I sent four from Epp's team to scale down the canyon to get the flag once you were distracted, the others joined the main assault."

Prowl frowned slightly. "Which was another feint." He gestured to Hound with his free hand. "It was the team from the canyon that launched the attack that immobilized me, not your assault team."

Lennox nodded. "Correct. We knew we wouldn't stand much of a chance in a frontal assault like that. Not without an ace up our sleeve. We also knew the team in the canyon wouldn't be able to get close enough to do their part if you weren't sufficiently distracted. Meanwhile, the retrieval team was free to go after your flag."

Prowl considered the human for a long moment, processing what he had been told. He had not considered the humans capable of that complex a military strategy, or even that they could effectively carry it out should they be able to conceive of it. Like Mirage, it had been preconceived prejudice and assumptions that had blinded him. He knew that and he accepted it and was thankful Lennox did not feel the need to blatantly point it out.

He dipped his helm. "A sound strategy, Major. If I may ask, please tell me when you devised it. Surely you were not privy to exactly what our own approach would be."

Lennox shook his head. "We couldn't know for sure, no. But we've been around you guys enough to have an idea where to start. Knew you'd be in the canyons, for a start. Knew you'd be in positions relative to your function. Knew what basic assumptions about _us_ you'd be operating under. But most of it was devised after we got a look at the situation."

"You mean… you mean you figured out how to attack us spur of the moment?" Bluestreak asked, something akin to awe in his voice that found faint echoes in Prowl's, Hound and even Mirage's optics.

Prowl could only stare as Lennox answered the sniper in the affirmative. Truly, at least _these_ humans, were not to be taken lightly. Considering the timeframe of the exercise, it could only have taken Lennox – and any others that may have advised him - a matter of minutes or less to devise said strategy. That was impressive, even for Cybertronians. Even for Prowl himself. And the humans had done so without the advantage of a battle computer or combat systems.

A glance at his leader showed that Optimus was not surprised to hear this and Prowl fully began to appreciate why the Prime had been willing to allow humans active roles on their combat teams.

"Wait…" Hound piped up, redrawing the strategist's attention. "How did you figure out my holograms?"

Lennox only smiled lopsidedly. "Hound, we are Special Operations. We are trained to notice details. Those holograms were neat, I'll give you that, but when one moves it doesn't make any sound and, well, you guys aren't exactly quiet you know? And when one leans against a rock, there are little outcroppings that just disappear into it when, had it been a real mech, they would have crumbled off. But most of all; holograms don't leave footprints. And…well… the rain just goes right through them."

Hound looked down sheepishly. "Oh. Right. The rain."

Mirage smiled at that, relieved that he was not the only one whose unique abilities had been thwarted by the vagaries of local weather.

Deciding to voice his only other serious concern, Prowl spoke again. "Such a strategy intentionally puts your people at risk."

"We're soldiers." Corporal Wilson spoke up for the first time.

"Exactly. We know the dangers. We all volunteered to be here. To be part of _this_." Togg agreed, gesturing at the gathered mechs. "We risk our lives because that is what it takes. And even if we should be killed, there are others who would willingly take our place. It's the way we are."

"It's our planet you guys are defending. It ain't right for us to just sit back and let you take all the risk. Not if we can help. Even if it means we get ourselves killed in the process." Sergeant Johnson added.

"Even as risky as it was, we only lost five of us… but we got all of you. That is more than a fair trade off and one any of us would make it in real life too if we had to." Epps pointed out.

The sentiment was met with grim determined agreement from multiple throats. As Prowl looked around he was stunned to see a sea of fierce organic faces staring boldly back at him as if trying to make him understand by sheer force of will.

He saw, clearly for perhaps the first time, just how tough, how determined and how brave and honorable the warriors of Earth truly were. He had also learned just how skilled and experienced they were as well. Truly he had made more than just a few misjudgments about their species.

His optics were drawn, almost of their own accord, back to Lennox only to find the Major was staring at him earnestly. Once optics and eyes locked, Lennox spoke again.

"We are allies, Commander. I'm sure that together not only can we find a way to defeat the Decepticons, but that having you and your unique talents willingly on board will help ensure the preservation of lives as well." Lennox paused. "I'm hoping we proved today that being on the same side means together we are stronger than either of us would be individually."

Prowl looked down at the human in his hand. Oh, he had the foresight to know that dealing closely with humans would doubtlessly lead to many processor aches in the future. But he could not deny the wisdom in the Major's words.

He nodded. "Indeed, you have, Major. I look forward to validating the truth of that statement."

A sudden cheer lit the clearing in a reverberating crescendo that did not die down for several long moments.

Prowl looked around at the nearly ecstatic humans. Never in his long life had he been so enthusiastically received. He was not an orator like Optimus, nor an entertainer like Jazz. Never had his words lead to such excitement.

"I don't understand." He said so quietly only Lennox could hear, that ache in his processor starting again.

"Don't look now, but you're a hero." Lennox responded with a smirk, patting the finger he was still holding.

A…hero?

* * *

_As always, please review..._

_A spin-off/sequel to this story has been requested by Eowyn77 and I am currently working on that outline, so stay tuned for that development. Title will be: Proving Ground Contingency. It will be different than either of it's predecessors, both the reason for the contest and the contest itself. Should be hilarious. _


	5. Epilogue

_First, my apologies for taking so long in writing this. The delay is mostly attributable to indecision on my part. I had an idea for this chapter, and then one of my precious reviewers made a comment that sent me in a totally different direction. _

_Then I started to doubt whether this was the way I wanted to go and played with the idea of simply writing a conclusion to the story and then publishing this little chapter as it's own ficlet because, quite honestly, I was not sure if it was fair to all of you to throw this type of thing at you midstream (well… at the end of the stream in this case). Then I decided I would just explain myself and trust that everyone would understand and show grace, forbearance and patience. _

_Let me explain why what you are about to read is so different than every other chapter in the Proving Ground continuum:_

_The day before I published chapter 4 my brother in law died. He was not just my brother in law, he was the brother that I never had. I wanted to write something in honor of him, but the shock and raw grief actually made it impossible for me to think of anything suitable because I knew, in order for it to truly honor him, it would need to be funny. I say that because that was his mission; to bring joy and laughter to others… to everyone he crossed paths with. I would not honor him by writing something that brought tears to other's eyes. But, as I said, I was at a loss._

_Then __**Foxbear **__left a review to chapter 4 stating a desire to be a 'fly on the wall' when the 'Bots returned to Diego Garcia. And it hit me: a fly on the wall. It was so totally random and improbable and absolutely perfect. It took me a long time just to figure out __**how**__ to pull it off, but… even though it burned up a few brain-cells… I __**think**__ I managed to do so._

_Thus this epilogue is not just the final chapter in Proving Ground Redux, it is also a tribute to Mark, and his goal of bringing laughter to others. My hope is that it makes you laugh yourself silly so please, don't take it too seriously. Just… go with the flow. On that note:_

_**Warning:**__ Do not drink anything while reading this._

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**Epilogue**

"**A Fly On The Wall"**

No one knew how it got there, no one really cared. It's presence was one of those mysteries that was so common as to be endemic and so mundane that pondering it was considered a waste of time that would likely fry one's reasoning ability. Furthermore, none of the native inhabitants of Earth even seemed to notice it… unless it strayed to close and the buzzing of its wings irritated them. The large metallic beings noticed it but it was one among countless billions just like and so was dismissed as just a tiny – virtually microscopic – annoyance.

Having just been brushed irritably away from a gathering of humans consuming their food, it landed on the smooth glass of a white vehicle with blue accents and pink splashed seemingly haphazardly across it. It looked like any other car, but that close there was definitely something different; a brush of energy against the little creature's wings and dancing before its multifaceted eyes. Nothing immediately definable, but still almost hostile.

The fly sensed the approaching danger just in time and took to the air as a seemingly normal windshield wiper swept across the strangely static-free glass.

Divested of its perch, it flew around, following random eddies and air currents only it could detect and use. It found itself drifting to the largest of the six brightly colored vehicles: a red and blue semi, and eventually came to rest on the top of its grill.

Strangely, though it was not able to reason as such, there was also energy radiating from this vehicle. Energy like the other but different. Energy that the tiny insect had never encountered before now. Except this energy was calmer – peaceful. Instead of feeling in imminent danger it felt… tolerated. Almost… protected.

Together these sensations were enough to give the fly a security it had never known and for the first time since it had hatched, it felt safe to rest.

… … …

It was jarred to full alertness as the massive diesel engine beneath it roared to life. Startled, but not inspired to move just yet, it tightened its hold on the smooth metal. The semi, along with the other vehicles, disembarked the ship. The fragile winged insect hung on as they crossed the docking yards and across plains of cement, sand and sparse grass. Clouds still filled the sky, but the rain had ceased falling at some point during the boat ride to this new place.

Of course, the fly had no way to know that – nor did it care.

Then the steadily increasing heat as the sun started to peek over the horizon was replaced by relative cool as metal and glass replaced blue sky and puffy clouds.

It felt a shift in the energy field emanating from the semi that would most accurately be described as 'polite warning' could the fly put such words to the sensation. Even though such reasoning was not possible for it, it was not surprised when the metal beneath it started shifting and moving.

It took to the air in obedience to instincts for self-preservation but did not feel in danger. Thus it was privileged to see the semi unfold into something much grander, something that looked vaguely human but… not. Humans looked to this grand being much like the now hovering insect looked to humans.

With a quiet buzz, it flew closer, upward to where the smoke stacks of the vehicle were now incorporated into the shoulder of the giant metal man. From that perch it could see the other vehicles make similar transformations.

One was a bright yellow-green, broad-shouldered being. The white one with blue stripes that had wanted to kill it became a tall, elegant being, though the bright pink was now splattered across its body in a recognizable pattern. A blue and silver vehicle as well as an olive green jeep – both also covered liberally in fluorescent pink, also unfolded to stand on two legs like a human. Next to those two, a pink splattered police cruiser began its own process of changing into something different.

"At least the others are still in recharge. I mean, if they were to see us like this we would never live it down." The blue one said in a rush.

"Indeed." The former police cruiser said dryly, then looked down at one of the humans. "Major Lennox, you and your men mentioned you would be willing to assist in helping us wash."

It was a statement but sounded like a question. At least that was how the addressed human must have thought, because he answered. "Of course, Commander."

The metal under the fly vibrated with what felt like humor as the black and white giant answered. "At your leisure then, Major."

It was said in the same dry, inflectionless voice and yet held volumes of nuance. Maybe almost a pleading demand, an order and a desperate wish… all at the same time.

The human chuckled softly rather than become intimidated by the large metallic being speaking to him thus. "Yes, sir." He turned to his men. "Okay guys, you heard the Commander. Hop to!"

The order was greeted with a chorus of shouted 'yes sirs' that vibrated the air, ruffling its wings as it watched as the humans scattered. Soon all the humans except the one addressed as major Lennox were gone.

Said human looked up at the black and white giant. "You know, we can't do that in here. We gotta go outside…"

Silence reclaimed the hanger as the pink-splotched beings looked at each other.

After a moment, the stillness was broken by the human again. "Come on. It isn't that bad. And it isn't like none the other 'Bots on the base haven't already been in the same position."

Another period of now uncomfortable silence then the blue one spoke again. "I believe you Major, I really do. And while being seen by the others would definitely be embarrassing it isn't that, its… well, I've never washed down, that is, I mean obviously I have washed down before… I mean, uh… it's nothing. Um…"

"What Bluestreak is trying to say," The white one's voice was cultured and held a hint of the same… borderline disgust that the fly had felt when it had landed on his windshield during the boat-ride. "Is that he has never washed down in front of an alien species before, let alone been washed down _by_ aliens. None of us have."

The great shoulder the fly rested on shifted slightly but not enough to dislodge it's tiny rider as the largest of the metal beings spoke, his deep bass voice rumbling soothingly over the fly's wings. "While routine maintenance is not necessarily a private affair for Cybertronians, Major, it is seldom performed in front of other species, let alone with their assistance."

The human pursed his lips. "Kinda like us not wanting to bathe in front of strangers uh? But you guys didn't put up that much of a fuss."

The fly felt another amused rumble move through the frame beneath it. "Bumblebee had already experienced the act while in the line of duty as he impersonated a car for Samuel. He had already informed us it could be quite… pleasurable."

"…Ah." Was all the human said for a long moment. Then: "Right; pleasurable. And?"

Though the voice of the giant red and blue being was perfectly straight, the fly felt the humorous vibration continue. "The enjoyable benefits far outweigh the initial awkwardness of the experience."

The human squinted up at the metal man the fly was still resting on. "Right. Okay… Um. I'm going to go check on how the guys are doing."

The police cruiser spoke again. "Sergeant Epps and the others are currently connecting what you call garden hoses to exterior medium pressure water spigots."

"Um, thank you Commander."

The blue one actually knelt down in front of the human. "I didn't want to offend you, Major, it isn't personal. It really, really isn't. It's just a wash, right? I mean, I appreciate your willingness to help. It's just awkward, you know? I mean I'm willing to give it a try. But… well... I guess what I mean is, what about you? Isn't it, well…weird for you to actually, you know, _wash_, an alien?"

Even the fly could tell the human was embarrassed, though all it was aware of was a sudden warmth flushing the superficial capillaries in the man's skin without any ability to interpret what that actually meant. "Uh… Actually, I never really thought about it… quite… like that, Bluestreak. Sorry."

Suddenly the tiny insect was distracted by the distinct confluence of chemical scents its simple instincts were preprogrammed to focus on. It was the unmistakable aroma of rotting fruit. Over taken by an ingrained need to feed, and suddenly knowing how that need could be fulfilled, it launched itself into the air. Only a couple of minutes later it had arrived at the source of the intoxicating smell: an open barrel that had been converted to a trashcan.

The fly had just landed on the edge of the inviting, plastic lined receptacle when the air was disturbed as the human brushed past, muttering lowly. "Okay, I am _never_ going to be able to just wash a car _ever_ again."

… … …

By the time the fly's ravenous exploration of the veritable smorgasbord of rotting human foodstuffs was over, of course it had no regular way of identifying how much time had passed, the pink splattered metal giants were already situated on the white tarmac.

Not that that really interested the insect. Hunger satiated for the time being, it wanted nothing more than a nice, warm spot to rest its weary wings. Taking to the air it headed toward the nearest metal being, unwittingly looking for the large blue and red giant that radiated a protective aura.

However, the first one he came to was the blue one. The metal man was laying on his stomach, those little appendages that looked a lot like wings sticking into the air. A team of at least ten humans were working on him. A handful worked on the wing-like appendages while several more worked on the pink marring the side of his neck and face. The giant's arms were crossed underneath his head and its forehead was pressed against his forearms.

Those great metal shoulders shook slightly, though somehow, the wings stayed perfectly still.

"That tickles!" The blue metal man squeaked out, laughter in his voice.

"Sorry about that" One of the humans called out and resumed scrubbing, albeit with a firmer touch.

"I'm just glad you guys can freeze parts of your frame like this, or something tells me this wouldn't be happening so easily." Someone else concurred.

"I don't want to even think about what would happen." The one being washed responded. "I don't think it would be good. But thankfully that isn't an issue and you know what? It really isn't as bad as I thought it might be. I mean, it's rather pleasant, if a little ticklish at times. Whoever would have thought that being washed by…"

"Don't go there, Blue." One of the humans cut in quickly. "_Please_ don't go there."

Uncaring for the water being indiscriminately sprayed into the air as the arching doorwings were rinsed, the fly moved on to the next closest metal giant.

This one was the white one that continued to radiate disgust. He was settled rather primly on the ground and watched the humans scrubbing at his plating with a mixture of bemusement, embarrassment and discomfort.

"It isn't that bad, Mirage." One of the humans said cheerfully.

"That is easy for you to say." The one called Mirage shook his head minutely. "You are not the one with aliens crawling over your frame."

"Mirage." The black and white one barked from nearby in clear warning though the fly was not able to make the distinction.

The white one looked up and then ducked his head slightly. "I do not mean that in a derogatory manner, Lieutenant." He said softly.

The indicated human gave the metal beneath him a firm pat. "Of course not. Guess in your place I'd probably feel the same. It isn't all that bad though, is it?"

The metal giant was silent for a moment, then conceded. "I suppose it is not. Just awkward."

"I can understand that. Here. Did I get everything in this spot to your satisfaction?"

The fly moved on, finding the giant green one next. He also had a large number of humans scrubbing his plating as he reclined under their ministrations.

"You know, you guys are a lot better at this than I could have imagined." He said idly as he watched them work.

"Why thanks, big guy." One of the humans answered. Said human was clinging to an armor plate several feet off the ground with one arm, a leg hooked around the piece, while he scrubbed with the other hand. "We aim to please."

"Don't let 'im fool you." Another human, this one working on a leg plate. "We just have lots of practice."

"Some of us more than others, Smitty." A different man called out.

"Don't call me that!" Said human huffed in irritation, then turned his hose on the offender.

The targeted human squeaked and ducked behind the plate of armor he was working on, but not before getting a face full of water.

Meanwhile, the giant metal man looked on with amusement.

Instinctively knowing the area to be increasingly unsafe as a spontaneous water fight threatened to erupt, the fly was quick to dart out of harms way. It wondered toward the black and white one. While not having the same protective vibe that the big blue and red one offered, this one was at least calm and steady.

This one also only had one human working on him. The one called Major Lennox.

"You know, Commander, this would go a lot faster if some of the others could help." Lennox said softly.

"Perhaps." The so-called 'commander' responded equally quietly, working with an appropriately sized brush of his own in conjunction with the human's efforts. "But it is a matter or propriety."

"Optimus let a team of us work on him." The human pointed out, then covered his face with his palm. "That didn't sound right."

A sweeping doorwing flicked slightly at that, but the metal being continued in the same even tone. "Indeed, but he has always been far more informal than his position necessarily calls for, and has always been far more willing to make exceptions for the sake of public relations and building trust."

"In other words, you're saying he did so because he didn't want to offend us." The human had arched a brow.

"Not quite so simple as that." The large brushed hesitated in its movements for just a moment as the giant looked at the human working on him. "Also, and perhaps most pertinent, is that I have always been a far more private mech than most if not all of my fellows."

"I see." The human said at last. "They why even allow me to help?"

There was another long pause. "Because we are of similar rank. Sergeant Epps is considered your second in command and would also be appropriate, but he is needed to help with Hound."

Now it was the human's turn to remain silent for a long time. "There is more to this than just you guys not being used to aliens helping with washing you down, isn't there? I mean culturally?"

"Indeed. Though the customs are old and most no longer follow them due to the necessities of war."

Both beings worked in silence for another couple of minutes, long enough for the fly to realize neither would offer it the security it was looking for in a safe place to rest. It was just heading away from them when it heard the metallic man speak again.

"Major, would you kindly explain why you referred to me as a hero?"

"Wha… Oh. Right. That. Well, it's like this…"

The little insect was almost to the next metal giant when a sudden noise startled it. The noise startled the human sitting on the black and white giant as well, because he jumped. As the insect whirled around to find the source of the alarming sound, it caught the sight of the metal being catching the human with one hand and simply depositing him back where he had been.

"That's why you're a hero." Lennox muttered. "Your timing is _perfect."_

"Your species has unusual standards for heroism."

A bright silver vehicle careened into view and transformed into yet another metallic entity, only to double over with the sound of grinding gears and wheezing vents. It would have been easy to mistake the creature as being in pain – if the fly had been capable of making such judgments – if not for the hard and dirty looks the pink splattered giants were casting it.

"Oh… _this_ is perfect!" The new arrival chortled. "I'm saving these images for my private stash!"

"Sideswipe, you, you lug-nut!" The gray and blue one stammered.

"Aw, what's wrong, Blue?" The silver one purred. "You look good in pink."

"So do you, Sideswipe." The tall yellow and green giant answered.

"Wha… what?" Open suspicion laced the smaller being's face.

"It was my impression that all of the first arrivals have themselves lost to the humans." The black and white one intoned neutrally.

"Oh, we have." The same greenish-yellow one replied.

"Yeah!" The one called Sideswipe exclaimed hurriedly and suddenly a ghostly image of the yellow one appeared, coalescing into existance in the center of the group from a beam of light emitted from the silver one. "That is what Ratchet looks like in pink."

The sound of muffled laughter came from several throats and vocal systems.

Curious about the light show, the fly made its way toward the shimmering display. None of the gathered sentient beings noticed as it passed through, the light playing microscopic rainbows over its wings.

But it was disorienting to the tiny creature and it decided that if a safe haven to rest was not available, perhaps another meal was in order. Thus it sought out the enticing aroma of rotting fruit once again, made all the more potent in the increasing heat the tropical afternoon sun.

Just as it cleared the hologram, the one called Ratchet spoke again, with absolutely no amusement in his voice. "I do seem to recall you earned the name pink-aft that day."

A look of abashed horror filled the silver one's face, though the fly had no way to identify it as such. "You didn't!"

"I did." Even the fly could not miss the malevolent humor in that tone.

Deciding to rest for a moment on the readily available metal of the green giant, the insect saw another hologram shimmer into view.

Though the figures were moving, the hologram itself was stationary. It showed the silver metal giant running through trees being chased by a handful of humans, all the while getting pummeled in the aft with pink paint pellets. Having to negotiate the heavy vegetation was slowing the metal being, making it relatively easy for the humans to keep up their pursuit.

Stunned silence met the image, then the humans started to snigger, trying to keep their humor hidden behind hands, brushes and convenient metal plates. Then the green one, Hound, laughed outright, gears grinding. " 'Pink-aft.' I get it now!"

That was the opening for the floodgates. The one called Bluestreak started laughing openly. Mirage chuckled a bit, shaking his head.

Even the one called Prowl smiled slightly, looking at the human working on his leg. "You are an impressive species, Major."

"Thank you, Commander." They shared a moment's longer amused glance as the image disappeared before returning to their various scrubbing.

Then the silver one started laughing as well, looking at the yellow one. "You're a mean fragger, you know that?."

"Thank you, Sideswipe."

With another shake of his head, the one called Sideswipe walked over to Hound, who was by far the pinkest of the new bunch. "You want some help there?"

Hound nodded and the silver one pulled a brush out of thin air and started scrubbing on a spot the humans had not started on yet.

As the fly landed on the rim of the trash barrel it caught the just barely muttered words of a human who was hurrying away to dump a brush, its bristles worn into dull nubs into the trash and retrieve a new brush from a nearby pile of supplies.

As the fly took to the air to find a safer place to rest as the descending brush came within inches of knocking it senseless it heard one more muttered comment, this time from the human that had thrown the brush.

"Man, they are as bad as we are."

~ Finis ~

_In honor of Mark: beloved brother, father and husband._

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_Yes, this was done from the POV of a fly, though it wasn't necessarily on the wall. No, don't expect any more of this type of thing: It was an effort to do something __**different**__ for the purposes of honoring a loved one and that is it… Do you know how hard it is to write the POV of a non-sentient creature? And an __**insect**__ at that? It hurt the head… but I hope it was worth it. _

_Thank you__** Foxbear,**__ for the wonderful idea!_

_Yes, I will eventually get to Proving Ground Contingency, but I have had couple of other plot bunnies bite... **hard and relentlessly**... that I will need to explore first. _


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